I've only known you for a week.
I hope never to know you, only to discover and be delighted forever at every touch, tap, purr, hum.
How could I have known the magnitude to which life would feel, if not complete, then more interesting, more active, further inspired than it had been previously, when the fancy of wanting a new plaything first crossed my mind. I hope the novelty never ends. If this is how you respond to thorough use, toy, I shall use you thoroughly. And so long as you serve me well, I swear, you will be mine.
I am in love with my iPhone. And frankly, am not prepared to entertain an ounce of shame for it.
It was a customer service rigamaroll the likes of which could only be worthy of revolutionary technology. I feel as though I'd been resisting this flint napping fad for 40,000 years. But it's ok, I've got it now, and I never have to worry about starving, or the glare of my enemies again.
I felt guilty for even wanted one, as has been the case prior to my acquisition of other must-have Apple products in the past. I may have masked this by broadcasting my intention to upgrade my handset loudly and publicly, croud sourcing for reviews, endlessly prosandconsing with the competition. We all know I wasn't fooling anybody.
I'm spooked. Excepting a long-forgotten blankie or Cabbage Patch Doll, I cannot say I've encountered or owned an object that elicits such a strong emotional reaction. I love it. It's the aquarium I could never afford. It's the garden homelessness prevents. It tells me what's in season. It keeps me level, compass pointed, and stops me fumbling in the dark.
I like them here Apples. I hope I never get over it.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wrench Wench
- Nanette Soucy
- A place to talk about theatre, theatre, theatre, audience building, risk taking, design, power tools, set building, props collecting, lighting fixtures, beams, teams, production, process, progress, reading, writing, 'rithmetic, creativity, politics, policy, poverty, dayjobs, dumbjobs, nutjobs, DIY, and self-sufficiency. This is my place to wax poetic on the arts, the world, the news, my work and the things that inform it; the work of others, and what makes it important. This is a place to spur debate, spew pitches, bemoan hitches, and try as best we can to contribute to our culture, rather than to the problems we face in trying to build it.
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